Rumour. Fish. Monkey. Iron.

Furniture goes on the floor, not the door. It's the second rule of Furniture Club.

From the Iron Age and the Brass Age to the Satin Nickel and Brushed Steel Age, it has been easy to distinguish doors and furniture; you go through one to sit on the other. Maybe you're being a bit daring and sit on one whilst looking through another and eating from a third but there was never any real confusion. Doors is doors sure as apples is apples. Furniture is a necessary evil.

Waste coat

The woman opposite me wears monotonous clothing. The woman opposite me
is silently offensive. The spotted waistcoat type thing is an attempt
at quirkiness but fails to deliver. The knitted waistcoat type thing
reeks of Sue Ryder. The woman opposite me wears two waistcoat type
things. I do not purport nor pertain to have any knowledge of fashion
nor how to dress stylishly. The woman opposite me is equally
unqualified.

The woman opposite me is dressed head to toe in off black. It is a
colour that can only be attained through repetitive washing or
purchased from a vintage shop.

The woman opposite me is beige.

So Many Levels of Awesome - Level 2

So Many Levels of Awesome - Level 1

Nursing a hangover with an airbed in the shade on a warm breezy day.
With a pillow.

Waddock Hunt

You know me. Actually, maybe you don't as the readership seems to have
changed somewhat of late. Whereas before it was mainly friends and
family who I would drunkenly insist visited my blog to try solicit
feedback and page views, now it seems that I have a variety of
Lithuanians and Russians who are avid readers. The cynical side of me
suspects its some sort of trawling trojan based in Moscow and Ljubiana